more than any other class of sportsmen towards the maintenance of
the sport. It is hardly too much to say that hunting would be
impossible if farmers did not hunt. If they were inimical to
hunting, and men so closely concerned must be friends or
enemies, there would be no foxes left alive; and no fox, if
alive, could be kept above ground. Fences would be impracticable,
and damages would be ruinous; and any attempt to maintain the
institution of hunting would be a long warfare in which the
opposing farmer would certainly be the ultimate conqueror. What
right has the hunting man who goes down from London, or across
from Manchester, to ride over the ground which he treats as if it
were his own, and to which he thinks that free access is his
undoubted privilege ? Few men, I fancy, reflect that they have no
such right, and no such privilege, or recollect that the very
scene and area of their exercise, the land that makes hunting
possible to them, is contributed by the farmer. Let any one
remember with what tenacity the exclusive right of entering upon
their small territories is clutched and maintained by all
cultivators in other countries; let him remember the enclosures
of France, the vine and olive terraces of Tuscany, or the
narrowly-watched fields of Lombardy; the little meadows of
Switzerland on which no stranger's foot is allowed to come, or
the Dutch pastures, divided by dykes, and made safe from all
intrusions. Let him talk to the American farmer of English
hunting, and explain to that independent, but somewhat prosaic
husbandman, that in England two or three hundred men claim the
right of access to every man's land during the whole period of
the winter months ! Then, when he thinks of this, will he realize
to himself what it is that the English farmer contributes to
hunting in England ? The French countryman cannot be made to